My mother was very strict. She made us start helping around the house fully, by the time we were 7 and 8. We had to clean our rooms without help, do dishes and take out trash, learn to cook, do our laundry, dust, bathrooms etc…etc. She k0was harsh and cold. She rarely hugged us or told us she loved us. She also kept us from our father, when we both needed him the most. My brother and I were intensely close to my dad.

You see, my father had to leave us when I was 8. He was addicted to heroin and nothing would save him. By the time my parents split, my mom cut off communication with my dad. It would take her some time to allow us to speak with him. By that Christmas, 1989, my father was in Oklahima and she had agreed to let us go with him for the holiday. We hadn't spoken to or seen my dad in almost a year. But once we got there, things backfired. Apparently my father had said he wasn't bringing us back. So my mom heads to Oklahoma to retrieve us. We are cut off again. The only communication were letters.

We wouldn't be allowed to visit him again for another 3 1/2 years. By this time she had moved us across country to FL. We never spoke to my dad or saw him. She bad mouthed him constantly. We didnt understand he was an addict. We didnt know he wasn't sending money. We just knew we were poor and couldn't have nice, new things. He was also sick in those years. He battled hepatitis, heart failure, open heart surgery and sobriety. We weren't allowed contact.

One day, my mom decided we could speak to my father. Apparently he had asked for us for the summer and had sent money. I was ecstatic and my brother was beyond happy. We loved our daddy. He was the best dad in the world. He always had so much love to give us. He spent time with us. He played with us. He took us to work with him. We would have our dad back! We were able to spend the next few summers and one Christmas with him. We thought we would finally get more in touch with him. Those summers were everything. He took us all over, we got to eat really well, we had so much fun. Until the summer after I turned 14. That summer was different. My dad had fully fallen back into his addiction. By this time I had started having memories of my father shooting up around us, buying drugs with us in the truck, taking us to dealers houses and sitting there for hours while he got high. The wife's of his dealers would feed us. We would play with their kids. Meanwhile my father was high in a back room. I didnt know then what I know now. That my mom spent years roaming Austin looking for him. Sometimes she was even looking for us too. He would take us as ransom. So she wouldn't leave him while he was gone.

This behavior continued the last 2 summers. He was always high. He would take us with him. He would sleep a lot. He also started telling us secrets and things about his past. He died that final summer. The last time I saw him, he was standing at the terminal of the airport, waving at us through a window. I hadn't gotten to say goodbye.

So what is the point of this story? My mother kept us from my dad. We never got to ask him about his life, or to understand why he did the things he did. In the years after my father left, we began to act out, rebel, we were angry. I also suffered years of sexual abuse because my mom left us often with family. I always blamed her for it. It was her fault my dad was gone, her fault I was abused. She never told us the truth of things as they happened. She tried to shelter us from the ugly truth. My brother ended up an addict as did I. My brother also became violent and would end up in prison for 4 years for an assault that almost killed someone. We were angry, we didn't understand why we were kept from my dad and then he died on us. My brother didnt know my father was an addict, not until he died that summer. Somehow my brother blocked it all out. I didnt. I just knew my dad was sick and my mom kept us away.

We went through a lot of unnecessary pain because she kept us from him and the truth. I feel that if she had just spoken to us maturely and reasonabley and had explained things we wouldn't have harbored so much anger and pain. She didnt start telling us truths until we were older, adults. I think parents often times try and shelter their kids from reality. To me this is detrimental to emotional growth. My brother and I still have so much anger. He is in therapy. I have spent years battling those demons and I have found some catharsis in the past. I try and let my kids know at all times what is happening in their world, good or bad. I dont know if this will help them one day, but I have found that my eldest is well rounded and very understanding and compassionate to humanity and towards himself. Idk. I like to think the honesty and maturity with which we raised him, has led to his compassion and overall happiness. I also never restricted his access to his father once we split. I hated the man and he hurt me, but I never passed that down to my son. We were able to co-parent. I think it hurts children more to take them from a parent. Unless the parent is abusive or incestuous or an overall piece of shit.

Moral of my long ramble is give your children the truth gracefully and let them be loved by the parent who wants to love them. They will be better off for it. The world is ugly. We, as parents, can't let our kids be blocked from the ugliness or they wont understand when the ugly comes looking for them. Truth is always the best option. So is love. We never new my mother loved us until we were adults. It hurt us gravely. It hurt us to be kept from our father, whom we always felt was the only one who did love us. It was a hard lesson to learn. My mother has changed now. She tells us every day she loves us.

Edit: My mother and I have made peace. She admitted to doing things out of spite regarding my dad. My mother also left us in the care of other people, sometimes for days. This resulted in years of sexual abuse. I know it wasnt her fault and she was out trying to fix my dad. But she was not a great mother and I have also lacked in my early days of mothering. She has always admitted to never wanting children. She was always cold and un-loving, despite loving us wholly. She did not show it. She never questioned why I pulled my hair out at age 4 and why I bit my cuticles till blood ran, starting at age 6. Or why I was afraid of the dark. How could she not see me falling into the dark? Easy answer, my father was drowning her too. She coped by drinking and sleeping around. She abandoned us often in those days of the divorce. She worked too much and traveled with my step-dad in the years after my dad died. She didn't want to deal with us.------ We have a relationship of openness and honesty now. I still think she was wrong to keep us away. My dad was sober in the years she kept us from him. I would have liked those days with him. The real him. Abusive to some, yes. But despite it all he was still my dad and I still loved him. He gave us the love my mother did not. And we were dying for it. Especially me, being abused and molested by family had taken it's toll. After I became pregnant with my eldest son at age 19, my mom changed drastically. She was the woman I always wanted her to be. She was loving and kind. She was around. And she still is. She is my best friend.

Anyway, Thank you for the thoughts everyone. I appreciate the other perspectives.

credit link:https://knowlegewisdom.quora.com/https-www-quora-com-What-is-the-most-common-way-parents-ruin-their-children-s-lives-answer-Sugarie-Sawyer?ch=17&oid=151274172&share=2c4a3747&srid=uQ742T&target_type=post